


Jewel...Jule...Jules

by TheNextPage



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Filler, Fluff, M/M, Sweet, beansfc has created a mini universe, expansion fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 17:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18608881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNextPage/pseuds/TheNextPage
Summary: A quick glimpse of morning in the Draxlembe house, based on the BeansFC 'Verse





	Jewel...Jule...Jules

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kyIians](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyIians/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Heart Is Where The Home Is](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17593931) by [kyIians](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyIians/pseuds/kyIians). 



> I would highly recommend Heart is where the Home is because it is a cute and wonderful read, and also because this fic is set in that same universe so it vaguely associates.
> 
> But read Beans fic, it's wonderful!

Pres was pressed up against Jules door, not daring to go in. He had considered barging in in alarm and excitement to lend credence to the lie. But he had instead paused, stilled and listened.

He only ever saw Julian asleep and entirely at ease on the rare occasions he stayed out late enough to return to find Jules asleep on the couch. And that wasn't always a restful sleep - he would have been waiting up, or expectant until he passed out. Pres would watch him sleep for a bit, maybe even place a delicate kiss on his forehead before he turned down Jules bed, then woke up his love and walked him up the stairs before they both departed to bed.   
This was different. Julian was making sounds - small, muffled, erratic sounds. Pres blushed imaging Jules behind the closed door. But recounting his own experiences, he realised Jules was not awake. He sounded like he was asleep and dreaming, _a very good dream._ 

Pres exhaled, stilling his rambling thoughts and quelling his slowly ever-burning desire. He brushed his knuckles against the door, barely knocking, not wanting to rouse Julian urgently.

'Pres' he heard exhaled in a relieved sigh then silence.

Pres grit his teeth, instantly tamping down the thrill that rushed through him.   
Raising his hand to the door once more, he knocked once more. He pushed the door open and walked in, injecting cheer and excitement into his voice. 

"Jules, up up up!! We're late frero. I think the power tripped last night and you slept through your alarm." Pres was striding with purpose to the en suite bathroom, flicking the lights on and turning the shower on.

Returning to the room, Jules was still in bed, disheveled but contented. A small smile was on his lips, his eyes soft and shining at Pres. He had barely sat up, looking at the rushing whirlwind of energy blowing through his room, in the form of Pres. _Pres._   
Pres who was in a towel and slippers, a towel slung over his shoulder. Pres who was looking at him as if he was the only person in the world to see. Pres who jumped on Jules bed and straddled him shamelessly.

A furious blush started suffusing Jules' cheeks. 'He's going to feel how hard I am and then...' but then Pres shifted slightly, his mouth moving as words undoubtedly tumbled forth, a whole story to explain what was happening. But Jules wasn't listening, because his whole world was reduced to the feel of Pres poking faintly against his midsection. Jules eyes locked on Pres' and saw a flash of recognition at the exact moment their thoughts were aligned and in sync. Jules - still small smile on his face - grasped onto Pres' toweled hip and held him still as he shifted slightly, sitting up properly. If Pres happened to feel Jules morning wood run against his butt to his thigh, _well...that was pure chance._

Pres leaned down and kissed Jules neck, lips hot and soft. A quick kiss, a whisper of teeth biting slightly. "We're late Jules. Come...we have to go. Now!" Pres has whispered into his ear, not daring to give any more space, not looking at this man's face, or else they would never leave this bed.

Pres leaned forward, his body overshadowing Jules. He wanted Jules to feel him, to be unmistakably, keenly aware, that he was sporting wood for him. Stepping off the side of he bed, he outstretched his hand. "Let's go. Shower's ready."

Julian flung the sheets back, giddy with excitement and a little lightheaded. Taking Pres hand, he followed him to the bathroom. Standing before Pres, he didn't question why Pres was on his knees before him, tugging his pants down slowly. Jules fingers laced through Pres hair, restraint stilling him from rocking forward, from pulling at the unruly curls caressing his skin. 

Pres turned and kissed Jules exposed arm, rising to his feet. "Come..." he dropped his towel and kicked off his slippers, walking into the shower. "Want me to wash your hair?"

"I thought you said we were late."

"We're late either way," Pres shrugged, reaching for Jules shampoo.

Pres slowly washed Jules hair, taking his time to give him a sensual head massage before soaping him down. They showered, their innocent exploration of each other punctuated with outbursts of laughter and entreaties from both sides to hurry up, even as they slowly traipsed fingers over skin, raking through hair and pulling each other closer.

 

They had separated to get dressed in their separate rooms. Running downstairs, Julian now acutely aware of the time and exactly how late they really were, Julian was caught short to see last night's guest at the kitchen counter, drinking coffee and checking her Instagram.

"Oh, good morning."

She looked up, a slightly puzzled smile on her face. "Hi." She pointed to the coffee machine, "I brewed a fresh pot. I'm Phara by the way."

Julian smiled back, foregoing coffee for a glass of water and possibly some juice. There would be food at training, even if he would have to inhale it down to ensure he didn't get fined for tardiness. 

Pres swept into the kitchen, bright smiles and looking sunny in a bright yellow shirt, black jeans and equally fluorescent sneakers. "Babe, you ready to go?" He kissed Jules on the cheek - his usual greeting for Jules. None of that playfulness from their shower remained... but maybe he was being mindful of Phara.

"And you'll get a cab back oui?!" Pres directed his attention to Phara, though he made no move to kiss her.

Phara sipped her coffee slowly, smiling gently at Pres over the rim of her mug. "Yep, called it already. Should be here in just a bit."

"No more calling me Jewel then?" She giggled, eyes twinkling in mischievous remembrance of the night before when she noted that was all Pres had to say to her.

Julian spluttered around his glass of water. He looked at Phara, then at Pres then stared down intently at his glass.

Pres snickered, walking round to Jule's side and picking up his glass. He took a leisurely sip before answering, "It would be confusing with my Babe."

Julian felt emboldened by Pres demonstrative standing with him, by his presence at his shoulder. "My name's Julian. But I'm called everything from Babe, Drax...Jule" he shrugged, trying to play it cool, but he could empathize with the agony that would likely be devouring her now. 

Phara's smile faltered a little. But she inhaled quickly and fixed her smile firmly back in place. "Oh I see... that would be confusing. Nice to meet you Julian."

"We have to go Babe..." Pres replaced the now empty glass on the counter-top.

Pres moved to hug Phara goodbye: a perfunctory drawing of her to himself for a brief moment, a tame pat on her back before pulling away. But she held him close for a moment, whispering in his ear for his hearing only, "I thought the girls were making up stories... Nonni, Shea, Henin, Zaïtuna... they all said you called them Jewel. They thought it was so you wouldn't confuse them. Something pretty and sweet for all the girls of your life." 

She let Pres go, taking up her mug of coffee once more. She looked up at Jules then cast her eyes back to Pres. "I think it's something else non.

Take care Presnel." 

 

Jules sat in the driver's seat, weaving effortlessly through traffic. "You okay Presko?" 

Pres had been quietly staring out the window, not even bopping and singing along happily and offkey as he usually did on the drive in to work. He turned to look at Jules who was driving with his hands at 10 & 2 on the steering wheel like a learner, peering intently at the sparse traffic and open lanes before them.

Pres sighed, laying his upturned hand on the console between them. Jules chanced a quick glance back to Pres, saw his awaiting hand and adjusted accordingly: he relaxed his grip on the wheel, moved his hand to a more comfortable position and took Pres hand in his freed left hand. Pres squeezed his hand.

"I'm perfect Jule. My Jule. I'm perfect."

There was a beat of silence, before Pres continued, "Now what are we going to tell Tuchel?!"

They laughed, as Pres turned up the volume and started singing along.


End file.
